My mum complains about my drinking and how I'm gonna put all my weight back on.I'm dx depressed and anxious by my doctor but my parents don't know, I don't give a dingdangity about my weight.

They complain sometimes about the size of my house (very tiny) we have a lot of stuff with no room to move which is a lie...We are happy here and we don't want to move... If you don't like it... don't come around...

Learning French and trying to fit into Quebec culture is worthy of hours of agonsied discussions on the phone. Appearantly immigrants to UK should adapt to speaking English and doing British things but emmigrants from UK don't need to change....

My dad was pretty strict when I was growing up. Some of the things he took issue with:

- Wearing jeans. I was born in 1964, and by the early-to-mid 70's, girls wore jeans as a regular thing (as opposed to dresses). He HATED the thought of me in jeans and refused to let my mother buy me any. - Wearing makeup of any kind. I once showed up at the dinner table wearing red lipstick (it was the 80's), and he snapped "That looks awful."- Having my ears pierced. I finally had them done on the quiet when I was 18, figuring that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Oh! On the subject of clothing...primary colors! My dad always wanted us in Red! or Blue! or maybe, just maybe, Yellow! I remember a lot of power struggles over me wanting to wear something pink or purple.

My dad was pretty strict when I was growing up. Some of the things he took issue with:

- Wearing jeans. I was born in 1964, and by the early-to-mid 70's, girls wore jeans as a regular thing (as opposed to dresses). He HATED the thought of me in jeans and refused to let my mother buy me any. - Wearing makeup of any kind. I once showed up at the dinner table wearing red lipstick (it was the 80's), and he snapped "That looks awful."- Having my ears pierced. I finally had them done on the quiet when I was 18, figuring that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Ah, yes, blue jeans or, as my mother called them, dungerees. She refused to buy them because they are difficult to iron.

My dad was pretty strict when I was growing up. Some of the things he took issue with:

- Wearing jeans. I was born in 1964, and by the early-to-mid 70's, girls wore jeans as a regular thing (as opposed to dresses). He HATED the thought of me in jeans and refused to let my mother buy me any. - Wearing makeup of any kind. I once showed up at the dinner table wearing red lipstick (it was the 80's), and he snapped "That looks awful."- Having my ears pierced. I finally had them done on the quiet when I was 18, figuring that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Ah, yes, blue jeans or, as my mother called them, dungerees. She refused to buy them because they are difficult to iron.

My mother still looks at me disapprovingly sometimes when I wear jeans. She is of the era, and I was brought up the same way, that you dress up for things, such as holiday means, even if at home, going out to eat, etc. Which is fine, but I can’t tell you how many times over the years I “dressed up” for holidays etc. either at home going to friends, and the rest of the “kids” my age were much more casually dressed. I’ve finally gotten her to realize that jeans are not sloppy, and will tell her, hey, we’re going shopping at the outlets, and I’m wearing jeans.

What’s funny is I have these black capri sweatpants. Nice ones, made of French terry, but still sweatpants. I had them on one time driving the 8 hours to my parents, and that night we were going out to dinner. I was asked to “dress nicely” ad told the pants I had on were nice! I then broke it to her that they were sweatpants, but they weren’t jeans, so they were acceptable.

*My driving - I am a safe and good driver but she loves to tell me when I have to take her places especially long trips to see her mother that I am either I am going too fast, slow, why I am taking a certain way, etc. My grandmother (her mother) does not get why she has to open her mouth constantly and just shakes her head at her kid.

*My clothing choices - I am short and plus sized. Either she complains that things are too loose or too tight, I show too much cleavage, I could wear a different outfit for a I could wear colors or patterns (as I prefer black clothing). I'd love to be a size 8 like her but even if I dropped the weight I will still have wide shoulders and hips with decent sized bosom.

*I wear too much makeup. Then again she wears none by choice. My makeup is not heavily applied at all.

My dad was pretty strict when I was growing up. Some of the things he took issue with:

- Wearing jeans. I was born in 1964, and by the early-to-mid 70's, girls wore jeans as a regular thing (as opposed to dresses). He HATED the thought of me in jeans and refused to let my mother buy me any. - Wearing makeup of any kind. I once showed up at the dinner table wearing red lipstick (it was the 80's), and he snapped "That looks awful."- Having my ears pierced. I finally had them done on the quiet when I was 18, figuring that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

I got told that I looked like a hussy when I showed up in red lips. Funny thing was, a couple of years later, my mom stumbled on the absolute perfect shade of red lipstick...and bought it for me.

I don't understand the objection some parents have to ear piercing. People have been piercing their ears for thousands of years, and just about every woman I know has pierced ears. My religious fanatic parents consider it to be a sin (along with a long list of other common behaviors). I have no idea why. If anyone can shed some light on this, I'd be interested to hear it.

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It takes two people to play tug of war. If you don't want to play, don't pick up the rope.

My dad was pretty strict when I was growing up. Some of the things he took issue with:

- Wearing jeans. I was born in 1964, and by the early-to-mid 70's, girls wore jeans as a regular thing (as opposed to dresses). He HATED the thought of me in jeans and refused to let my mother buy me any. - Wearing makeup of any kind. I once showed up at the dinner table wearing red lipstick (it was the 80's), and he snapped "That looks awful."- Having my ears pierced. I finally had them done on the quiet when I was 18, figuring that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

I got told that I looked like a hussy when I showed up in red lips. Funny thing was, a couple of years later, my mom stumbled on the absolute perfect shade of red lipstick...and bought it for me.

I had a friend in college who had on really red nailpolish one time. I never met her parents, but her father apparently asked her "what color is that? Revlon come scrabble me red?"

My friends were all getting their ears pierced and I BEGGED to get mine done. Mom always said no. I secretly think it was because she didn't think I was old enough to look after them myself.

When I was 10, there was a gift certificate on the Christmas tree for me to get mine done. Mom took me in for the appointment and on the spur of the moment, got hers done, too. You've spent how long telling me I can't get my ears pierced and when you finally let me, you do yours, too. Really?

But I didn't care; I was just happy to get mine done. Until I found out that I was allergic to nickel. Couldn't even wear stainless steel. I still have those piercings but only wear 14 to 18 carat gold keeper hoops in them 99.9% of the time.

I was born in 1968. I didn't get a pair of jeans until I was in Grade 5 and only got them because I needed them for a costume for the skating carnival I was participating in. I wore those things to death. And managed to talk Mom into getting me more. She wanted a girly-girl. She got a tomboy.

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After cleaning out my Dad's house, I have this advice: If you haven't used it in a year, throw it out!!!!.

My mother took me to get my ears pierced when I was four. After hearing girl friends express envy because they weren't allowed to at all or had to wait till a certain age, I asked my mother why I was allowed to get mine so young.

She said "Remember how much it hurt?" I said no and she said "that's why."

Well about 2 years ago I got another hole added and it barely hurt at all, not enough that I can really see why I'd need to have it done young enough that I'd forget it.

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Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here. Be cheerful, strive to be happy. -Desiderata

With my dad, I think his dislike for ear piercing was about four reasons rolled into one:

--He thought it was Disfiguring The Body. He had a weird, arbitrary set of rules on what constituted disfigurement, in which piercings disfigured the body, but plastic surgery was a grand thing because of how much better it made people look, in his eyes.--It cost money.--It was for grown women, ergo a kid or teen who did it was "fast."--He worried we wouldn't take good care of the holes, which might have even been true.